✞A Ghastly Stake✞

She could handle the oxygen tank, her grandmother’s haggard skin, and the hospice nurses that came by more than they had a month ago. Leaving was something she could not handle, however, and standing by the doorway made her regret even stepping foot outside of her grandmother’s room. Instead, she stood across from a man who had adorned a business suit a few minutes ago and snatched a briefcase from the living room, his grip on the handle firm. He had the look of a lawyer you saw on TV shows -- an ugly tie and a serious look that appeared to have been fixated there for a long time. And it had. She couldn’t remember him with any other expression when around her. She remembered her mother saying that it would only take a while for whatever grudging emotion he held against her to vanish within thin air; she didn’t believe it would ever happen or that he could even manage it for that matter.

“Yvette, thank you for stopping by, but I think it’s time you go.”

And it didn’t seem like he was ready to forgive her from that fight a year ago.

“I was just leaving.” Yvette responded in a hollow tone, guilt bubbling in her stomach at the thought of that fight. “I just… Bye, Dad.”

A curt nod was all she received in response.

Alternatively, she just gave a slight wave to the hospice nurse that stood awkwardly in the living room and withdrew herself from the old Victorian home she once lived in and making a beeline through the garden to her white Honda. And the next stop would be just as forlorn as this one had been.

Her mother’s birthday shared today’s date -- October the fourth. Since two years ago typical behavior would imply that today would be her “do nothing” day. She would skip her college classes. stay in her room -- or now her dorm room since staying with her grandmother proved difficult for commuting and her sanity -- and watch various shows that came on the television and if there was nothing good on, she would sleep the day away. Something had convinced her to do otherwise this time -- more specifically someone. Visiting her grandmother today and seeing her father prompted a sudden, overwhelming guilt. Two years ago, her mother had passed away due to a cause the doctors could not name or could not identify. It had been unprompted and happened so suddenly that she didn’t believe the call her uncle gave her. She was fine the day before and the next day she was on a gurney being delivered to the morgue.

Yvette sighed, clenching the steering wheel with her right hand at the thought then stuck her key in the ignition with the other. Looking over, she analyzed the single rose that sat in the passenger seat. What kind of flower would someone put near a tombstone? Honestly, she was too anxious to get out of the flower shop that she didn’t interpret the meaning a rose might hold. Love. It did fit; she loved her mother dearly and always would. But seeing it just made what was coming next feel so real.

How many times did her father visit her mother’s grave bearing a flower like she would be when she walked down the isle of stone and located the one with the familiar name on it? In all honesty, Yvette didn’t know him that well to visualize the flowers or the tears that possibly spilled down his cheeks. Growing up with him wasn’t a spectacular experience filled with smiles and laughter. In the beginning, maybe, but when she hit a decent age that had changed. Eventually the fairy tales her grandmother told her that Yvette was so fond of had to halt due to her father’s orders. “I don’t want you filling her head with nonsense,” he had said. With her grandmother being so stubborn, the only solution was to cease the frequent visits.

Many other things took place in between, eventually leading them to stop talking to one another.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Yvette took a deep breath and pushed some of her blonde hair back behind her ears with her gloved hands. It was rather cold this time of the year. It snowed rather frequently, no matter how little, but thankfully she had gotten a break this night. Although it was freezing, there was no white slush on the ground present. She snatched the flower from the passenger see. Admittedly when choosing a flower, she had been frugal when selecting the one. Working at a fastfood joint didn’t pay too much and she had to help pay her grandmother’s bills. She made a note to herself to remember to save more next time.

Yvette clutched it in her hands, getting out of the car and walking along the rows of tombstones, looking left and right for the relatively new stone that was placed on her mother’s grave. “Where was it?” she mumbled to herself, trying to remember the funeral they had held. It had been close to some of the older mausoleums that contained people as old as the American Revolution. She remembered needing time away from her coddling relatives, walking along the tiny stone buildings and looking at the words engraved in stone. Their age certainly showed; the stone didn’t look as strong as the newer ones did.

Whether it was the reason she was here or the place in general, Yvette felt really uneasy.

She soon halted her idle thinking, finally recognizing some part of the area and looking to the right. There it was. “Bertha Hamilton,” she read aloud, “endearing wife and devoted parent.” Kneeling before the grave, she twisted the rose in her hand before placing it against the stone. “Hi there.” she said awkwardly. It would be even worse to say all this in her head; she would feel that, if ghosts did exist, that her mother would scold her for simply staring in silence. Instead, she swallowed up some of her sanity and began to speak as if her mother could hear her right at this moment.

“It’s been a year since I saw you.”

She struggled for a brief moment, swallowing down whatever tears threatened to spill over. Why was she getting so emotional so fast?

“Um, I’m in my third year of college now. I have a roommate now. Her name is Tiffany and she’s -- well she’s annoying as hell. Stays up talking on the phone or comes back to the dorm drunk and with her boyfriend. Or just somebody she met at a party. Not really sure and don’t want to ask. Thankfully, the girls next door don’t mind if I stay the night over there. We’re not really friends, but they understand that no one wants to feel like they’re in a porno when your roommate acts like she didn’t even see her there and the boy gives you the eye.”

She gave an uncomfortable laugh at the memory and then visibly shuddered. Tiffany never studied for her classes, it seemed, and didn’t care for when Yvette wanted some peace and quiet to do so herself. Instead, she would talk amicably to her friends or talk to her boyfriend. Sometimes she would even make rude remarks directed towards Yvette and pretend as if she weren’t right there. And it’s not like Yvette didn’t try to get a new roommate. The dorms were just too packed full that she couldn’t even if she wanted to.

“My job is going well,” Yvette continued. “As well as a fast food restaurant can go, I mean. And my boss is--”

A twig snapped.

It had caused her to jump from surprise and whip her head around to in back of her. Like in a horror film, a silhouette could be seen despite the darkness of the sky. The sun had already settled and the air, even though she was there for mere minutes, already felt as if it were getting more chilly that before. To prove that it was, Yvette gently blew and watched as it turned into a white mist before disappearing just as quickly as it came. The figure was still there; whoever it was stood still like they were statue and facing this direction. Her feeling of unease from before only grew, something she had attempted to ignore while she spoke.

“Um,” she turned her head and began to force herself on her feet, “bye, Mom. I love you.” The single rose had tipped over, causing her to lean over for a moment and adjust it. Talking to that stone, oddly enough, didn’t feel as weird as she thought it was. Her father would likely shun the notion; he was a firm believer that once someone was dead, they couldn’t hear you as much as others loved to think. The idea of your loved ones hearing you from beyond the grave was both comforting yet unsettling when you thought about the things they heard, but it was a still a nice thought. Either way, she was done talking to inanimate objects or even her mother who couldn’t respond even if she could hear Yvette.

Instead, Yvette averted her attention once more to behind her, taking the sudden realization that the silhouette was now slowly approaching her. The sky had darkened a bit more, making whoever it was seem more eery, but now she could identify that it was a man. He appeared tall-ish and had a limp in his step as if his leg had fallen asleep and he was trying to walk before it woke itself back up. And for someone with a limp, he was moving pretty fast.

A moment of brief, unprompted panic sat in the pit of Yvette’s stomach, forcing her to move forward while only sparing the man a few glances as she walked in the other direction. Then paranoia sat in, prompting the thought that if she could only lose him by walking around one of the mausoleums…

“Hee,” the man wheezed, causing her to whip around and releasing a brief shriek as she did so. He was much closer than he was before, being at least one foot behind her. He had halted in his steps, causing her to do the same. The uneasy feeling she had when she first entered the place now translated into anxiety, causing her hands to shake though that would be hard to see from the man’s point of view. The sun barely shown at this point and in a moment’s noticed it would have dipped behind the hills and hid itself from view.

Taking a moment to view the man had sent her to sudden repulsive, making her feel ashamed at being judgemental, but there was something wrong about this man. His eyes appeared to be caked over with some yellow-ish fluid, his green eyes taking to an unhealthy yellow tiny. Dirt was caked to his skin, more prominent on his hands and the top of his brunette, outdated hair. And then his clothes began to pop out to her -- referring to them as clothes being rather generous. They were practically torn apart and completely dirtied white a few clumps of dust here and there. His clothes reminded her of people from two hundred years ago that Yvette had view pictures of in her Journalism class.

He groaned again, causing her to heart to beat faster and gaining her undivided attention. His voice was ragged and struggled to released clear words. “You,” he finally managed to say. “Feed me.”

Immediately after saying that, he reached out aggressively and grabbed onto her coat.

Yvette released a screech, shoving the man away from her before turning completely around and darting off in the other direction. The man released a loud, aggravated groan in protest and she could only guess that he began to hovel after her. There was no way she was going to turn around and risk tripping over something. Horror movies taught her that important lesson.

For a brief moment, she skidded towards a halt, casting a quick glance towards the man -- noting that he was far away enough for this quick decision -- and surveyed which way would be best. Soon, she choose to go right and darted down the isles of crypts before taking a left and then another right. A good zigzag would, hopefully throw the man for a loop -- but of course she spoke to soon as a hand roughly grabbed her throat and yanked her back.

The man moved quick enough to have her land on the ground instead of leaning into him. Looking up at him, he gave the look of a savaging animal, a new feature she had forgotten she saw earlier. Dark veins ran down from the bottoms of his eyes, running lines and popping up on various places of his skin. And then there was something new. His eyes had gone red around the white as if his eyes were bleeding and sharp fangs were protruding from his yellowed teeth. A animal-like hiss was released before he dove down and roughly turn her head to the side. Before he could do anything, however, she used all her strength to force him off of her.

It took a lot more effort than she thought, the man being ridiculously heavy for someone who appeared to be so thin. As soon as she had fallen she stumbled to her feet and once again, clumsily, ran away from the man. A moment later she felt as if she caught a break. The man didn’t appear to be too close or aware of where she was, but she couldn’t just continue running. Along the way she had tripped enough times that the knees of her jeans had ripped and bloody scratches made themselves known, both on her knees and on the top of her head. Being so sore and admittedly not as physically fit to continue this, the only thing she could really do would be to hide and wait until the man disappeared. Or maybe morning when the gravekeeper turned, but that was a last resort.

Think, think, think, Yvette thought quickly, eyes darting around the area. Only mausoleums were around at this point, having gone further into the graveyard where older bodies lie. A sudden idea came to mind -- the only one available, really -- and she darted over to one of the more eroded looking mausoleums and reached for the handle of the door handle, the door being made out of what she assumed to be iron. It took a lot of her strength to open a door which probably hadn’t been opened in years.

Yanking it open, Yvette couldn’t help but fall back before she forced herself to quickly scramble to her feet and enter the small stone structure, pulling the door closed with just as much strength as it took to open it.

While I do tend to be more on the passive side I can be more aggressive if needed. I do love to plot though so I really like a partner who is willing to work with me and not leaving everything up to me.

Favorite Genres:

Fantasy, adventure, supernatural, modern, well played romance

Genre You DON'T Like:

Furry, extreme gore, zombies, pure war themes, rape.

“You lied to me!” Ashley himself could hear how ridiculous and childish his venomous words sounded, in the empty stone mausoleum they echoed solemnly. He should have known better than to trust a witch, why had he let himself be tricked like a weak minded fool?

He knew all too well why, but how had the witch found out? Only now did it occur to him how strange it was, she was after all not as old as him, a witch, no matter their skill, was still human. But perhaps that was what he overlooked, those few witches with especially strong powers. His dark eyes burned in rage but an unfamiliar numbness had started spreading through his limbs, like someone had poured lead over him, hindering his attempt at throwing himself at the woman standing just a few feet away, a look of smug satisfaction on her face.

“I could not help it,” she finally answered, her voice soft and somehow peaceful despite them standing in the Tyrell’s family mausoleum. “You were all too easy to string along. What kind of a monster lets himself be tricked by some pretty words?”

Ashley growled deep in his throat, if only he was not tied down by this other worldly numbness the witch would have already fallen dead to the floor. The worst part of it was that her words were true, it stung his pride to have been tricked but it stung even worse to see his hope shatter. The mere memory of that night was enough for him to stumble along blindly believing anything the witch told him, the burning fire heating his skin, eating away at the house and reducing his past to ashes.

“How dare you...” he managed to say, and took a step in her direction, the movement sent him stumbling sideways, he had to grasp desperately at the edge of a stone coffin to stay standing.

The witch only laughed in mockery, a sound that annoyed Ashley to no end. “Why would I not dare? Because you and the rest of your kind are so superior? So powerful and arrogant that we all should cover before you?” Her calm facade vanished as she spat out the last words, resentment and anger shining in her blue eyes.

“No, I think not. You all deserve to disappear, to free this world from your dark grip, and if even one of you falls while knowing just who defeated all of you so called superior beings then I will live a happier life.” As quickly as you flip a switch the woman calmed down, the mask had slipped back into place and her eyes no longer showed the empty void hiding beneath the surface hinting at her true mental state.

Swaying where he stood Ashley started to feel the first tendrils of fear in the pit of his stomach, he could hardly remember the feeling but the situation was starting to overwhelm him. Not only was his body affected but now his senses was failing him, his vision swam in front of his eyes, he could barely hear the woman’s heart beat any longer and slowly Ashley was losing his sense of smell.

He raised his dark eyes to the woman, meeting her icy gaze, as he sank to the floor darkness settled around him, shutting everything out except those big blue eyes. Desperately he tried to fight back, to regain control but Ashley was losing the fight and slowly he sank into oblivion.

-----​

For the longest time nothing disturbed the silence, the soothing cover of utter darkness enveloped Ashley where he slept peacefully. Then slowly the complete stillness was beginning to shatter, sounds broke through, the vague rustle of leaves far away, the soft scratching of rodents scuttling around and the sound of metal against stone. Then came the smells, the dust and mold close around him, the scent of damp earth and crisp night air, and an alluring metallic scent.

That what was really scattered the darkness clinging to his brain, something fought to keep him asleep but that sweet, thick scent pulled him into consciousness and finally his eyes fluttered open. Above him an arching roof of stone spread, around him dust and cobwebs clung to every surface and the air was heavy with age.

Slowly he sat up, he felt stiff and tired, his head appeared filled with cotton and a familiar burning sensation started throbbing in his throat. Memories started coming back to him and with them came anger and embarrassment at being so easily fooled. As he grew more alert his hunger grew quickly and in his mind Ashley wondered just how long he had been asleep.

Shaking his head to clear it Ashley took hold of the coffin by his side and pushed himself up, looking around he saw that he had spent God knows how long asleep in a heap on the floor. His clothes were dusty and full of cobwebs, the once white shirt was now a yellowed bone white, but except for holes were rodents had taken their share they were at least in one piece, the sealed mausoleum had sheltered him from weather and wind at least.

A rustle nearby caught Ashley’s attention and he fixed his dark eyes to the area closest to the door leading outside, a young woman sat on the floor her clothes dirty and ripped but he didn’t see much else beyond the blood on her knees. Stepping closer the scent of blood grew stronger, it filled his nose with it’s metallic scent and Ashley could feel his mind slipping. All he could feel was the aching hunger and smell of blood dulling his brain, but he didn’t care.

Without hesitation Ashley swiftly stepped over to the woman and bent down, in a few short seconds he gripped her arm with his own pale one and with the other he pressed her head to the side and sank his teeth into her neck, swallowing the warm blood greedily.

Never before had he been so hungry, never before had he been so close to losing himself and never before had he cared so little.

Yvette didn’t notice that someone else was in there with her. At first, she only heard a brief rustle of movement, only thinking it was the rodents she had seen when she first stumbled into the stone structure. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind and why would it? There were only coffins in the moderately-sized mausoleum with a tiny hole in the eroded stone walls where the mice had gotten in. Coffins contained dead people; they didn’t hold the living -- that was fact. However, it only took another moment for her to notice that the movement came from the other end, a hand clutching the outside of the broken or eroded stone coffin. The rest of the top slid off the edge and made a loud sound of breaking stone. She jumped instantly, attempting to stand up, but the weakness in her knees prevented her from getting up on time. It was times like these when she cursed her low tolerance for pain.

A hand gripped at her arm, roughly pulling her up before she felt a sharp pain on her neck. Frantically, she awkwardly slammed on the side of the man, unable to see him other than the hand that roughly grabbed her and the dirty hair that dangled over the side of her shoulder. He swayed, only slightly, which forced her to move her foot forward and slam it back under the bottom of the man’s shin. Whether due to clumsy luck or the awkward position they had been in, the man lurched backwards and released her neck, his teeth barely scraping the skin when they pulled out of her skin. She gripped her neck tightly and moved forward as fast as she could to the iron door.

She only glanced to the side once, shocked to see that it was a different man yet he wore similar clothing to the one outside. The only exception was that he wasn’t caked in dirt; he was covered in what appeared to be cobwebs and dirt. But even so she didn’t feel the need to concentrate on him any longer and attempted to push the iron door open. It wouldn’t budge.

“C’mon,” she whispered to herself, her arms straining at the force she was exerting. One hand was firmly gripped on the handle of the iron door knob, the other shoving on the door. This motion continued, frantically, but it only made her arms shake at the strain. “Dammit,” she swore under her breath, pressing herself against the iron door before turning warily around to look at the stranger.

While I do tend to be more on the passive side I can be more aggressive if needed. I do love to plot though so I really like a partner who is willing to work with me and not leaving everything up to me.

Favorite Genres:

Fantasy, adventure, supernatural, modern, well played romance

Genre You DON'T Like:

Furry, extreme gore, zombies, pure war themes, rape.

At first he barely noticed anything, the only thing on his mind was the blood, it soothed his aching throat and slowly he could feel some of his strength returning. Ashley barely noticed the woman struggling to free herself from his grip, even in his weakened state he had no real trouble keeping her there, but it would take a lot more blood to fully strengthen him and some of her more powerful struggles made him lose his balance slightly and he swayed slightly on his feet. That's when she kicked him, hard for a human or maybe he was just weak, Ashley didn't really feel the pain much but the kick snapped him out off his haze.

Stumbling backwards away from the woman clutching her neck Ashley shook his head to clear it and stroked back dark strands of hair from his face, shocked at his behaviour. It wasn't the human blood that freaked him out, no the act itself was what had scared him, he had only once before lost his mind to the point of losing control completely and he hated feeling so weak and powerless. To lose his head over the scent of blood was a trait Ashley had always despised, to him it was a weakness, a sickness, like a human with an uncontrollable urge to eat all the time.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm down, which didn't really help in the cramped space smelling of century old air and blood, Ashley wiped traces of blood from his chin and looked over towards the door. His eyebrows raised slightly in surprise to see the woman still inside pressed against the door, her wary eyes on him, he guessed the door was stuck somehow since she hadn't left.

"I..." He stopped to clear his throat, years of disuse and dust almost making him choke. "I am... very sorry for that." Normally Ashley would never dream of apologizing to a human he had fed off, how many times did you really say sorry to your dinner after all, but this was a different situation and he couldn't stand someone else seeing his failure. "I know that it will probably matter little, if at all, to you but I did not mean to do that."

He would never ask for her forgiveness though, he drew the line at an apology, he was too proud for that, at least in his own words, others would probably call it being stubborn or arrogant though. "By the way, if I may ask, what are you even doing in here, Miss. A mausoleum is hardly the place for a young woman to spend time in, especially when it is most likely not your family crypt?"

It hadn’t really hit him until now but a young woman looking like she’d tumbled on the ground in what could only be described as mens clothing being inside a mausoleum was beyond normal. He couldn’t imagine what brought her here.

Taken aback by the apology, Yvette remained silent and continued to eye him warily. She didn’t trust him. Not one bit. That being said, she kept her back placed firmly against the iron door and a hand on the handle in case it decided to give way. It was hopeless to think that it would, but it was the only thought that gave her some minor clarity in that situation. Having to press her hand firmly at her neck to stop the blood flow, though, caused her to quiver. The blood flow wasn’t as quick; it was odd due to the bite being almost on her carotid artery. Still, she was thankful. Otherwise she would die in mere minutes from blood loss.

And the apology. She didn’t believe it one bit. In fact, for a brief moment, the whole situation minus the intensity of the attack the man just pulled and his whole nonchalantness about it gave her a brief flash of anger. She only made a sign of this by glaring for a brief moment. “You almost killed me.” she stated dryly, surprised that the confidence in her voice didn’t match the fear she was actually feeling. “You almost killed me, and then you ask me what I’m doing in a mausoleum. What about you? What the hell are you and that guy out there trying to pull? A freaky murder that will get you sick bastards on the newspaper?”

Yvette was disgusted by the thought of of her bloodied corpse being seen on the front page of the local newspaper, giving the two men the temporary fame from such a bizarre way of torture. She shuddered at the thought, and never kept her eyes off of the man before her.

While I do tend to be more on the passive side I can be more aggressive if needed. I do love to plot though so I really like a partner who is willing to work with me and not leaving everything up to me.

Favorite Genres:

Fantasy, adventure, supernatural, modern, well played romance

Genre You DON'T Like:

Furry, extreme gore, zombies, pure war themes, rape.

Ashley stood silently listening to the woman’s outburst, he wasn’t exactly surprised by it but neither was he bothered, except for his own lack of control. But her last words made him curious. Was there another creature who had awakened? He had no idea if the human was over reacting or not but something must have linked the man she said had been outside with him. Was the spell broken then? He wasn’t sure, he had of course been there with the witch who caused it all but he knew nothing of magic or spells so Ashley had no idea how the spell had failed. He did know, though, that the witch would turn in her grave if she knew her eternal spell had weakened. If he, and possibly one more at least, were awake then something must have happened.

Focusing on the woman again, who had now fallen silent but had her eyes on him, probably wondering when he would snap and go after her again. “Yes, but I did not.” Ashley retorted calmly. “Just appreciate that you met someone with self control.” He didn’t reflect over how his words could anger the woman, it had been a long time since he had been thinking like a human.

“You do not need to worry about being murdered by for publicity, attracting attention is not what I am after. But what about the other person you mentioned?” He continued, still intrigued. “What made you think he and I would be working together?” Curious to see if the man was just a boring human or possibly another creature having awoken recently.

Yvette remained miffed at the man’s nonchalant attitude, deeming him and the other man outside as sociopaths. Thankfully, this anger temporarily outshone the fear that attempted to creep its way back to dominance. Her anger had always been a bit easier to trigger than other emotions. This often got her into disagreements with her father, making her too stubborn to apologize if it was her fault. Her and her mother rarely got into fights minus the typical teenage arguments going along the lines of, “You never let me do anything.” That very statement always insured that she would get a scowl from her mother, but both parties knew it was true. Exercising, school work, job, chores -- that’s all that she did for practically eighteen years. Though the only thing she could blame her mother for is cowardice against her husband. Other than that, she was a perfect mother.

This thought had sidetracked Yvette for a second -- only a second -- before her attention returned to the man who remained fixated in one spot. Some comfort derived from this, but she still made sure she didn’t drop her guard.

“What do you think? Matching outfits. Cute but it’s not Halloween,” she replied bitterly. If only she could get out of this hellhole, and run to her car. Even her roommate’s endless phone conversations that seemed to grow louder every second sounded great to her. In fact, she missed it. As any sane person in that situation would, she just wanted to go home.

While I do tend to be more on the passive side I can be more aggressive if needed. I do love to plot though so I really like a partner who is willing to work with me and not leaving everything up to me.

Favorite Genres:

Fantasy, adventure, supernatural, modern, well played romance

Genre You DON'T Like:

Furry, extreme gore, zombies, pure war themes, rape.

Ashley shifted his weight to the other leg and looked at the woman, his brow knitted as he tried to figure out what she was talking about. “What is halloween?” He asked, dragging out the unfamiliar word slightly. He had heard of quite a few things in his life, especially during the many extra years given to him but never had such a word been mentioned before. He wondered if humans had invented many new things during his sleep or if this woman was as delusional as her clothing would suggest.

Which brought him to another thing. “Of course they are not clean but what on earth is wrong with my clothes?” His tone and expression hinting at someone wrongfully insulted. When he had bought them they had been made of great quality fabric and of high fashion. “A woman wearing mens clothing should perhaps think over her own choice of clothes before commenting on someone else’s.”

Besides that however it seemed the man she had spoken of could indeed be another creature, hopefully someone that had no idea of his own involvement in the whole sleep matter. Since the woman was clearly hiding from something seeing as no one would freely spend time in a dusty old mausoleum it did support the fact that other besides himself had also started to awaken.

He tried his best to keep his thoughts occupied with that train of thought to bury the hunger that burned with a renewed intensity in his throat. The blood he drank from the human had been far from enough and his body craved more to regain strength but Ashley had made a silent promise to leave the woman alive for now, more to prove a point to himself than for any sort of sympathy for her.

“Men’s clothes? Get out of the 1900’s and get back to the 21st century, asshole.” Yvette snapped, her voice only wavering towards the end. Maybe intimidating someone who almost killed you isn’t such a good idea. Despite her break in bravery, her mouth remained fixated in a straight line. She just hoped he wouldn’t break the facade quite yet and continue to play his sick, twisted game. Her stomach churned at the thought of him finally snapping and doing whatever he did to her a moment a good. That man outside and the one in here must have been cannibals.

And that made her realize had silent -- minus the talking and her racing heart -- it had been outside. Most of the nose was dulled out by the thick walls, she was positive, but there was absolutely no sound. Even when looking through the glass on the iron doors, she could only see the snow falling from the sky. “Damn it,” she mumbled. She could even feel it grow colder in the mausoleum.

While I do tend to be more on the passive side I can be more aggressive if needed. I do love to plot though so I really like a partner who is willing to work with me and not leaving everything up to me.

Favorite Genres:

Fantasy, adventure, supernatural, modern, well played romance

Genre You DON'T Like:

Furry, extreme gore, zombies, pure war themes, rape.

"Well I would," Ashley said, a faint grin playing across his lips. "It is not that easy, however, to adjust to a century you have never experienced, when I was last up and awake women wore dresses and men trousers." Ashley had realised early on that cursing his fate and feeling sorry for himself and always wishing to be human again would be a destructive life, besides it was more fun to enjoy the perks of being a vampire, and that included freaking humans out.

It was not like he went around scaring humans all the time, after all he didn't want to attract attention to himself but when an oppurtunity presented itself he couldn't help it. For every year that passed however humans seemed to loose belief in the supernatural so it would perhaps not be such a big risk teasing this woman seeing as she still didn't believe he was anything else than a deranged human. "While we are on the subject, sort of, what year is it?" He was a bit curious to see how long he had been asleep.

Looking past the human and through the window he saw the snow gently falling, the cold that slowly pierced the stone walls and chilled the room didn't bother him although he could feel it. "I am just guessing here but I take it you are stuck in here?" He said, returning his brown eyes to the woman. The cooler air helped keeping his head clear although the hunger would not go away until he had eaten.

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